


Through Bleakest Night Dawns Hopeful Morn

by teacup-occamy (tinyshoopuf)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 20:25:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9842411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyshoopuf/pseuds/teacup-occamy
Summary: His eyes were hooded and red, jaw muscles clenched tightly in a way she was sure was making his jaw ache.  Everything about him looked raw and his eyes flickered to meet hers for a split second before he averted his gaze once more.





	

She’d tended to Queenie first, hugging her little sister through her heartbroken sobbing and helpless hiccups. In the hours proceeding the loss of Jacob’s memory, Tina had whispered comforts and wiped tear-stained cheeks until exhaustion had carried the blonde off into, what Tina hoped, was a blissful respite. Once assured of sleep, she’d darkened the room and tiptoed away to search for the other broken heart currently residing in her home.

The sight of his closed case gave her pause; should she knock? After a moment’s deliberation, she shook her head and carefully unlatched the brass fittings, raising the lid slowly as to avoid any nasty surprises. When no creatures made to burst from the case, she opened it fully and slipped down the narrow ladder into his sanctuary. 

Tina stepped lightly, softening her footfalls in deference to the fact that she _was_ invading his solitude, but she was also determined to ensure he was, if not alright, then at least in a position to recover from recent events. He was very well within his right to tell her to bugger off and she would oblige – once she was satisfied he was in no mental or physical danger.

Her quiet padding brought her through the shed and out into the miraculous construction that was the inside of his case. She spared a moment to marvel once again at the thought and care that had gone into its creation as well as the thing itself. Always one to admire good spellwork, she appreciated her surroundings, taking in the separate habitats, each a perfect copy of the environs each creature thrived in.

The creatures themselves, however, were not in their respective spheres, but gathered in the arid plains that had once housed the thunderbird. At the center of their congregation sat Newt, feet drawn and tucked, shoulders hunched forward and head bowed. He looked like he was trying to cave in on himself, as though imploding would keep all else at bay. Dougal stood before him, somberly patting his knee while Pickett, ever present on his shoulder, was gently stroking his cheek with long, twig-like fingers.

She hesitated on the steps, a bit loath to intrude on the scene since she was, for all that had happened, still somewhat of an outsider in this miniature world. But the nandu turned and gave her a plaintive look while a faint keening sound entreated her for help. Making up her mind, she rapped lightly on the door frame and, pitching her voice low, quietly asked if she could join him. For a moment there was nothing, but then his head bobbed his acquiescence, the movement a rough staccato.

She sat, perched on the edge of the platform a few feet away from where he leaned against one of the rock pillars, just close enough for him to feel her presence, but not be crowded. Silence descended and while it wasn’t uncomfortable neither was it easy nor peaceful. She couldn’t see his face through his mop of unruly hair so she elected to stare at her hands in her lap, becoming absorbed with her own thoughts as she struggled to determine what to say, or even if she should speak. After all, she hadn’t known him very long and he was particularly difficult to get a read on. As if to lay truth to her thoughts, he surprised her by breaking the almost palpable hush.

“How is Queenie?”

She started slightly, his words jolting her out of the stillness she’d found herself. It took her a moment to understand what he’d said, heart twinging a little that his first thought seemed to be of someone else. Perhaps it was simply a defense mechanism (after all, if she was truthful with herself, she was doing something of the same), but genuine concern laced the query and she appreciated the sentiment.

“Inconsolable,” she said, quietly fidgeting with her locket. “She’s asleep for now, at least.”

He nodded, finally raising his head enough for her to see his face. His eyes were hooded and red, jaw muscles clenched tightly in a way she was sure was making his jaw ache. Everything about him looked raw and his eyes flickered to meet hers for a split second before he averted his gaze once more. She waited patiently, knowing that while he was upset at the loss of his friend, for he seemed to have few to begin with, this was not the burden that left him bowed and subdued.

“I lost another one,” he whispered, voice breaking slightly.

She watched him scrub at his face with jerky movements, thoughts racing around her head as she tried to decide what best to say. Sympathy, she knew, would be met with resistance; he didn’t want pity. Pity would cause him to become dismissive and close himself off even more. After some contemplation, she decided to match him feeling for feeling.

“We failed to protect him,” she agreed, and he uncurled slightly at her words. No illusions here, they were in part responsible, if only by promising to protect him and failing. On this, they agreed, but that was not to say that Tina was going to allow either of them to dwell on the negative emotions. It was very unproductive. “So, what are we gonna do about it?”

He looked up then, a bit startled. “I’m sorry?”

“What are we going to do about it? Newt, we _can’t_ let this ever happen again,” she said, pausing as his expression darkened and his hands clenched in trembling fists. Angry red marks stood stark against the whites of his knuckles, showing where one of Grindelwald’s curses had landed on a hand thrown up in protection.

“I said I wouldn’t ever let this happen again three months ago.”

He looked defeated, completely at a loss for what to do, which was, in part, due to grief and pure physical exhaustion. Again, she sensed that he was not looking for commiseration, but rather direction. Surely his grief would be a long time in recovering, but the despair that lay over him in a pall was brought on by a lack of options. He truly was unsure how to proceed, which was fodder for the unshakable gloom he found himself in.

“I think,” she said slowly, making sure she had his full attention, “the first step is going over what happened and…cataloging the events, if you will. MACUSA should have records on each disturbance and now that we know what it was, we can fit an appropriate pattern of behavior that might help us recognize others in time to save them.”

His expression turned thoughtful, his inquisitive nature responding favorably to that course of action. The more he chewed it over, the more animated he seemed to become as he brought his gaze up to meet hers. It wavered, his eyes still somewhat glassy with unshed tears, but she thought she detected a hint of determination behind the pain. 

“And you have me. Goodness knows I’m not about to sit by and let anyone suffer like that. Besides, two heads are better than one, right?” He finally cracked a small smile at that.

“I would appreciate your head,” he said, flinching when he realized how awkward he sounded, but a quick glance at her face showed she seemed more amused than put off. 

“Come on,” she said, fighting a smile and rising from her seat. “Mama used to say that a little food can make things seem a little less bleak.”

As she led him out of the case and into the kitchen, he couldn’t help the little voice in the back of his mind whispering _you need a giver._

**Author's Note:**

> Eep, out of my comfort zone


End file.
